


captainccino

by technorat



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Developing Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:36:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/technorat
Summary: Kylo Ren works at a coffee shop with co-worker Hux, who he both adores and hates.





	captainccino

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted December 25, 2016. Reposting here just in case. It's a somewhat holiday-y fic so maybe tis the season anyway !
> 
> you can find me [here](http://gaygalaxyguy.tumblr.com) on tumblr and you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/gay_galaxy_guy) on twitter. Written originally for the very merry kylux event.

_November 2017_

He checks and double checks the address Rey had written in that chicken-scratch handwriting of hers.

He sighs.

He’s here.

Early.

The sign hadn’t even been flipped yet, still reading: _closed_.

Kylo frowns, walks to it, knocks, hoping that maybe—just _maybe—_ no one would be around to answer. (His PlayStation 4 was calling him back home, back underneath copious heaps of blankets and old sweaters and jeans.)

And of course his hoping comes to nothing.

The door sweeps open, little bell chiming pleasantly.

The man—boy? fellow student?–who answers is shorter than him, just slightly. Just on this side of scrawny. Ginger. Freckles. A pink sweater, rolled up at the elbows. A scowl so dreadful that Kylo almost shudders. Almost.

“We are not open just yet,” the boy says, lips pinched. Some British ass.

“I’m Kylo?” he offers. “Rey sent me here?”

“Rey’s cousin?” he says, words clipped, lilting in an unfamiliar way. He’s not from around here. He stares, eyes boring into Kylo. “She said your name was Ben.”

“Y-yeah, that’s me.”

The man gives him a long look. Then he sighs, shoulders curving in. “Look—whatever your name is—today will be busy. If you are not willing to work what will basically feel like rush hour all day, you should leave now.” The sea green of his eyes are screaming, finding Kylo incompetent from just one look.

The final day of midterms…

Kylo’s first day.

How unfortunate.

But…

“No,” Kylo says, jamming his hand in between the door and its frame. “I’m ready to work.”

The man quirks a brow but obliges, moving aside to let Kylo in. “My name is Hux,” he says, walking behind the counter. Finding a crumpled apron, he tosses it to Kylo, who catches it easily. “Put it on. We have work to do.”

Kylo sighs, rolls his eyes.

 _Whatever,_ he thinks. _It’s just temporary._

He’s not exactly right.

 

_December 2017_

His name tag arrives with a snort and a half-sneer from Hux.

“What’s this?” Kylo asked, frowning. “A Christmas gift?”

“No,” he says. “A proper name tag. For your apron.”

It’s light in Kylo’s hand, almost like it’s not there. It’s the same design as Hux’s and Phasma's—the normal employees that share his shift at Starkiller Coffee.

Rey had asked him to cover her shift nearly a month ago.

She never asked for it back.

No, instead she got a new job, working at a repair shop with Kylo’s father, her uncle.

It gives Kylo a headache.

“It says _Ben,_ ” he spits.

Hux sighs. “Yes. It does.”

“I’m not Ben.”

Hux sighs again, this time more tired. “Yes? And what am I to do about it? Ben is the name our employer has down for you.”

“What are you to do?” Kylo spits. “How about getting me a name tag with my actual name?”

One other employee shakes his head behind the counter, not even bothering to disguise that fact that he’s been listening in. “Here they go again,” he mutters, wiping down the countertop.

“This is the name Rey provided us with,” Hux says cooly, looking up at Kylo through transparent lashes. “This is the one you get your checks under. This is the one Mr Snoke provided.”

“You asshole,” Kylo blows up, stomping noisily closer and closer to Hux, looming over the other man. “Your tag says Hux. I’m abso- _fucking_ -lutely sure that’s not your first name. What? I don’t get an exception? Who do you think you are?”

Hux raises an eyebrow, not impressed or intimidated by the gesture. “You are an employee, as am I. We work here. The name tag inherently doesn’t have a value, along with the name printed on it. Make a formal complain to Snoke. Go on. I dare you.”

His eyes– some green blue grey amalgamation of colors– are fearless.

He’s not afraid. At all.

Again.

It would be so much easier if Hux could juts be like anyone else.

Most of the staff at Starkiller was so afraid of Kylo, they would scurry off and follow his commands, even though he hasn’t been working there long.

But no.

He’s stuck with the ass.

“Well?” Hux says, crossing his arms, tilting his chin up defiantly. “I’m waiting.”

Kylo snarls, walks away.

 

_January 2018_

Kylo, in fact, does not get a new name tag, doesn’t even bother trying to tell Snoke. (No, it’d just sound like he’s a whiner, someone who’ll tattle at the first sign of trouble. He’s not a snitch. But Hux, Hux is a _bitch_.) He settles with scratching out the final curve to the _B,_ making it an acceptable _R_. Hux rolls his eyes at that but says nothing at the small rebellion.

The weather only gets colder. Snow falls overnight, incredible heavy layers, night by night.

Kylo shows up early, for once. Somehow, with everything messed up with the snow, he’d managed to get to work even faster than normal, slipping occasionally with the snow.

Hux, all bundled up but nose still an alarmingly red shade, shovels snow outside of the coffee shop. He’s doing a miserable job, sniffling every now and then.

“Hey,” Kylo calls, hating himself. “Let me.”

Hux looks at him, narrowing his eyes, scowling. Kylo can just tell he’s scowling, even when his mouth is covered with a soft looking scarf. “What do you want?” he asks, muffled through fabric.

Kylo holds out his hand expectantly.

He waits.

Hux sighs, mutters, “Unbelievable,” disapprovingly, but ends up handing it over.

Hux is the one to retreat this time, entering the warmth of the coffee shop.

Hux is the one to bring out a cup of hot chocolate for Kylo, handing it over wordlessly once Kylo puts down the shovel.

Kylo blinks, brown eyes wide as Hux looks away, cheeks reddened, lips pointing down, face fully on view now that he’d abandoned his overlarge scarf.

He takes the cup, fingers brushing past Hux’s own, and drinks. “Thanks,” he says.

Hux hums noncommittally.

The paper cup—hot and soothing in the cold—feels much like an extended olive branch.

 

_February 2018_

Phasma is the one who hangs up the decorations.

Red, shiny hearts and little cupids clutching bows and arrows.

It’s very pink and red and Valentine’s-y.

Hux wears a red apron, almost as red as his cheeks in the cold air, over an oversized pink hoodie.

“What?” he demands, scowling.

Kylo looks away. “Nothing,” he says.

(It’s not nothing, he knows.

It’s not fair that Hux can look kinda-sorta-maybe cute in such _tacky_ clothing.)

 

_March 2018_

The job, Kylo has to admit, is not entirely _that bad._ The pay could cover Kylo’s art supplies and the commute was only across the street from campus and his dorm. The co-workers could be better, he’d be the first to admit.

Phasma is bearable. Loud. Flirtatious, especially with pretty, slim girls that come in for their morning cup of coffee. (Some looked disappointed when they came when Phasma wasn’t working. What a heartbreaker she could be.)

Mitaka—the new guy—is awfully mousy, terrified of Kylo for some stupid reason. And he likes to kiss ass. Constantly agreeing and nodding along with Hux’s every word. Stupid.

Hux isn’t even the boss.

(The boss is some old guy named Snoke. Kylo didn’t know if it was a first name or a last. He had the sense not to ask.)

Hux is just some annoyingly mature college student—the same age as the rest of them, even though the overachiever already was packing on the college credits.

Hux, some unbearably stuck-up guy, who just so happened to love (grudgingly, and not that he’d ever admit to it) the color pink.

Hux, who is kinda-sorta-maybe not as bad as Kylo thought he’d be.

Hux, who offered to help Kylo when his papers could only get C’s.

They take their hour lunch breaks together more often than not.

It’s convenient. They don’t have to talk. Sometimes they do. It doesn’t really matter either way.

This time, however, Hux reads, looking through Kylo’s draft, marking up, as if he thinks himself a teacher. He nibbles on the end of his pen while doing so, absent-mindedly, eyes moving quickly across the page.

“There’s no _so what_ ,” Hux says, mumbling. He always mumbles when he’s really focused, the strict bearing he wears all but melting away.

“So what?”

Hux rolls his eyes, looks away from the paper. “So what?” he asks, totally deadpan. “Why should I care about your essay? How can you hope to do well if I don’t care about what you have to say?”

“Well, the teacher should care because he assigned it,” Kylo spits.

“That won’t help you later on in life though,” Hux says. “What if you need to write a thesis paper? You’ll need to make people care about what you’re writing.”

It’s infuriating—how Hux remains so dispassionate, how Hux marks up his work until there’s almost no space in the margins.

It’s infuriating that Hux is right—he’s _always_ right, at least in the worlds of academia and coffee—and that Kylo struggles to do as he says. But he’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting to that.

“Break time’s over,” Phasma calls, bursting into the backroom. She holds a paper coffee cup, rim stained with her red lipstick. “Get to work.” And then she flops down into a chair, sighing deeply.

Kylo pulls his papers together, shoving them into a folder.

Perhaps he does so sloppily. He doesn’t really care, even with the look Hux shoots him.

 

_April 2018_

Hux maybe sorta kinda really isn’t so bad.

Without a word, the ginger pushes a mug of coffee within Kylo’s grasp.

“You look awful,” Hux says, terribly flat.

Kylo sips, groaning at how strong the blend is. It’s sure to wake him up. He runs a hand through his hair, gathering it all back and tying it into a bun. Hux shoots him an odd look at that. Kylo is all too aware of how large his ears look when his hair is tied back.

“I’ve looked worse,” Kylo assures him.

Hux rolls his eyes.

*

It’s after their shift ends that Kylo decides to approach him.

“Hux,” he says, struggling to meet his eyes, even just a little. He’s confused by this new development from Kylo. So is Kylo himself, if he’s honest. “You free right now?”

He raises a brow. “Why?”

Kylo scratches the back of his head, heart beating nervously. “You’re the reason I got a B+ on my paper,” he says. “I was wondering if I could treat you.”

Hux crosses his arms over his thin chest, face unreadable. “A B isn’t terribly impressive.”

The silence between them is awkward at that.

Kylo shuffles.

Hux sighs.

“Very well,” Hux acquiesces. “Do you like ice cream?”

Kylo perks up at that. “Ice cream?” he repeats.

“You can’t treat me to coffee,” and how Hux’s accent makes that word so much more appealing, “because it’d be traitorous. The weather is pleasant enough. I know a good ice cream place. It’s doable.”

Hux makes it sound so logical, thinking it out, step by step.

Kylo breaks out into a big grin. “Ice cream sounds good,” he says, retrieving his hoodie from the coat closet.

Hux too retrieves some outerwear, though his looks considerably more expensive that Kylo’s own. How could a college student like Hux afford such luxuries, Kylo wants to ask.

He controls himself. He doesn’t.

“Ok,” Kylo says as they stroll out of the coffee shop, Phasma barking like a dog behind the counter, startling some of their customers. “So just where is the ice cream place?” He remembers then that he doesn’t have much at all on his Metrocard, face reddening early, as if preparing for humiliation.

“It’s on campus,” Hux says, as if hearing Kylo’s thoughts. “In the dining hall.”

“I’ve never been there,” Kylo says.

Hux raises his brows, shaking his head. “Commuter,” he says, mockingly.

“That’s not fair,” Kylo says. “I have a dorm too.”

“Yes,” Hux says nodding, pace so quick. His shoes, dress shoes, of all things, are loud against the sidewalk. “But don’t you go back home to mummy and daddy every weekend? You’re just a glorified commuter.” Hux sneers and Kylo wants to choke him by that skinny neck of his.

“You’re such a jerk,” he says instead, frowning.

Hux sighs. “Sorry,” he says, shocking Kylo.

He’s never heard Hux apologize for real. (Apologizing to customers didn’t count, especially when they thought Starkiller Coffee employees could perform miracles or something.)

“It would be nice to be able to go home every weekend,” Hux says. “It’s probably cleaner and quieter than the dorms on campus.”

Kylo snorts, thinking of his mom and his dad and their giant, hairy, constantly barking and shedding dog. “Hardly,” he says. “It’s not quiet at home.”

“At least,” Hux says. “Quieter than the dorms. It’s not a difficult margin to beat, though. Terrible location to study.”

Kylo almost laughs. Somehow, he’d known Hux would be a hardass when it came to everything. “Then where do you study?” he asks.

Hux looks at him curiously, as if privately thinking Kylo is an idiot. (Which… he very well might be. Kylo isn’t a mind reader.) “The library,” he says, ridiculously posh accent interfering with his words.

They look at each other curiously.

Hux sighs to himself, as if undergoing some Herculean task. “Please tell me you’ve been to the library.”

“Yeah,” Kylo assures. “…Once.”

“Jesus,” he says. “No wonder your papers are so poorly cited.”

“Come on,” Kylo protests. “My citations aren’t that bad.”

“Aren’t that bad?” Hux repeats, mockingly. “But they could be so much better. The school has a library with access to millions of books, articles, and peer-reviewed journals and you don’t think to do your research there?”

“Okay, okay,” Kylo says, throwing up his hands in protest. “I’m being dumb,” he says, dragging out the word. “I’ll go to the library.”

“Good.” Hux nods, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s pleasant there.” Shockingly, he leans close, some sort of friendly gesture. “There are several vending machine on the second level, close to the elevators. The middle one is broken and will dispense anything without asking for money.”

“Hux,” Kylo says, eyebrows shooting upwards. “That’s… very unlike you.”

“What? It isn’t like I broke it,” the ginger insists, looking smug regardless.

The ice cream shop is in the dining hall, tucked between the Starbucks and a halal food place. Dubbed the Dairy Stop, it also seems to sell milkshakes, yogurts, and other dairy products.

“What can I get ya?” the awfully cheery woman say behind the counter.

Hux nods his head towards the glass display. Behind it, a rather large and unique set of flavors are presented.

“One scoop of strawberry ice cream,” Hux says, nodding to himself. “In a cup, if you will.”

She gets to it. “And you?” she asks while working, obviously meaning Kylo himself.

“Ah, uh, I’ll get vanilla.”

“Basic,” Hux says.

“And you’re one to talk?”

“Cup or cone?” she asks.

“Cone.” It comes out sounding more like a question with his nerves.

“And I’m assuming you’ll pay together?” she smiles at them, even going so far as to wink.

“Yeah,” Kylo says, fishing out his beat up leather wallet from his wallet. “I’m paying.”

It’s… pretty cheap, all things considering. And Kylo is grateful for it, the broke college student he is, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the state of the worn and cracked leather of his wallet.

The dining hall isn’t too crowded. Hux leads the way, Kylo following behind helplessly, holding both of their treats.

“Isn’t this a bit unfair?” he calls.

Hux holds up two pink spoons. “I am carrying something too, Ren,” he says, sounding smug. Kylo can only see the back of him, but wouldn’t put it past the little asshole to be smirking.

He finds them seats close to a corner, farther from other people.

Hux takes his ice cream cup and sticks his spoon into it, handing the other spoon to Kylo. “Here,” he says.

Kylo snorts. “I don’t really need it,” he says, sour. “I bought a cone.” He licks his ice cream to prove a point, staring at Hux as he does.

Hux looks away, cheeks red, probably embarrassed about the spoon thing. “Fine,” he says, heatedly. “Suit yourself, Ren.”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

“What do you think?”

“Of what?”

Hux gives him an odd look. “The ice cream,” he sighs. “How did you manage your life so far?”

“Ice cream’s good,” he says, thinking about being more adventurous with flavors next time. If there’s a next time. “And hey, man, I think I managed my life pretty well up to now.”

“Of course you would think that,” Hux says, rolling his eyes.

*

It becomes somewhat of a regular thing.

The two guys wandering on campus together after a shared shift, to hanging out on weekends, even to planning on sharing a class or several in the future.

(To help you with your idiotic papers, Hux had said. But he couldn’t hide his smile, a barely there quirk of his lips.)

“Ren,” Hux says, one day, sounding awkward about it. “You dye your hair, yes?”

“Um, well, yeah,” he answers – perhaps too quickly.  Kylo’s heart beats all too loudly. “Wait, wait. Why? Oh man, is it against Starkiller policy or something?”

Hux rolls his eyes. “No,” he says. “That would be rather difficult to enforce and, as a result pointless.”

“Well okay then,” Kylo says. He’s learned not to argue too much with Hux, especially when he’s… this confrontational. “What’s up then?”

“What’s up?” Hux repeats to himself, frowning, shaking his head, disapproving of the colloquialism. “You dye your hair yourself, yes? You don’t go to a salon?”

“Yeah,” Kylo answers. He sits in a stool slouching, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Would you be willing to help me dye my hair then?” Hux asks.

So so _so_ many things occur and should be wrong, Kylo thinks. There’s so much out of character action going on. It doesn’t make sense.

“Uh, yeah,” he manages. “Sure.”

 

May 2018

So Hux now has pink hair.

Kylo had always known that Hux liked the color. Didn’t think he’d like it so much that he’d want his hair to be that color too.

And with that change, there came another stupid one.

So asses just couldn’t cope with seeing some guy with pink hair, thinks Kylo, avoiding looking up, keeping his eyes steady with the floor.

It makes the third customer to bother Hux over it. “Halloween’s over,” the guy (dressed so much better, Kylo rolls his eyes, in pajama pants and a tee-shirt.) “I don’t know man. Can someone else serve me? Don’t want you touching my drinks.”

Ok, Kylo thinks, inhaling loudly. Go through the breathing exercises Uncle Luke had spent so long teaching him. Asshat #3 will get his vanilla triple shot and leave.

“Sorry sir,” Hux says, not sounding apologetic whatsoever. “I am the only barista working at the moment.”

The customer snorts. “Whatever,” he says, crossing his arms. “Don’t do anything funny. I’ll be watching.”

“Yes. Of course,” Hux says dryly.

It’s only later that Kylo talks to him about it.

“Want me to beat him up for you?” he offers.

Hux looks at him curiously. “You’d do that?” he says cautiously.

Kylo shrugs. “You did basically do my papers.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “The basis of your papers was there,” he says. “You just needed a little more instruction.” He crosses his arms over his thin chest. “What I still don’t understand is why your teacher never even bothered to teach you the structure of an essay.” He shakes his head, riling himself up.

“So, is that a yes to beating that guy up?”

Hux shakes his head, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry about him,” he says, almost letting himself smile. “It’s taken care of.”

“What did you do?” Kylo says.

“I put a touch too much cinnamon in his coffee.”

“I like cinnamon in my coffee,” Kylo says, throwing up his hands. “That’s kinda not a punishment Hux.”

“Well, he said he didn’t want a girly drink, didn’t he?” Hux says.

“I dunno. I was sweeping.” And still, Kylo feels that tell-tale blush run across his cheeks.

“Get back to work,” Hux says, almost sounding fond.

*

Hux, being pretty much the guy in charge with Snoke almost always absent, has a way with the employees, Kylo will admit only to himself.

Mitaka, the mousy little man constantly terrified of and by the customers, had always received an unfair amount of complaints. Today, Mitaka stands at the counter, taking an order and stuttering, rather badly.

Mitaka’s stutter kinda sorta might be worsened by being around Kylo.

(He had yelled at Mitaka once after the guy had spilled a cup of coffee on his brand new pair of shoes, threatening to choke the guy. Hux had made him apologize right away. Still, Mitaka cowered more around Kylo.)

Hux exits the back room, holding a heavy bag of beans. “Mitaka,” he calls, seeing the guy with a line of impatient customers. “Switch with me.”

“Yes sir,” Mitaka manages, sounding vaguely militaristic.

Hux works through the line, quickly and efficiently, never losing a beat. A strand of his hair, kept precise and prim with hair wax, comes undone. It’s almost cute.

Cute?

Cute.

That… doesn’t seem right.

Hux would probably object to being called cute, even with his pink hair and prim sweaters and spatter of freckles across his cheeks.

Shit.

Kylo thinks Hux is cute.

 

June 2018

It’s not like Kylo does anything about his panic over Hux and his (admitted only grudgingly) handsomeness.

He doesn’t know if Hux likes him back. (Or even thinks he’s kinda sorta maybe handsome.) (Kylo blames his ears entirely. And his nose. And his lips– Well, maybe he’s a little bit uneven and a little bit oversized in places.)

Hell, he doesn’t even know if Hux is gay.

Or bi.

Or like, _anything_.

Maybe Hux isn’t interested in anyone. (And hey, that’s totally fine.) The way he blinks off some girl’s flirts that morning sure make it seem so.

“Looks like you got an admirer,” Kylo teases, hating himself for saying so. Casually, he lets his arm drop across Hux’s shoulders, some casual touch they’d gotten used to over the months.

Hux ducks under the arm, scooting away. His rolls his eyes, frowning. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ren,” he says, looking the way he does when Kylo doesn’t use a coaster in Hux’s dorm. “She just wanted a discount.”

“Didn’t look that way to me,” Kylo teases, hating the way his heart pitter-patters so pathetically. Hux looks nice at that angle, facing him, sunlight streaming in through a window and setting his pink hair ablaze.

Hux scowls. “Come on, Ren,” he says with a sigh. “You should be used to seeing it. The only one someone ever flirts with seriously is Phasma.”

“Yeah, well,” Kylo says, scooting past Hux and to the sink. He washes a few dirty cups, even fewer dirty plates. The place hasn’t been so busy that morning. “I think that’s cuz she starts it,” he says. “She has like the best gaydar.”

“Gaydar,” Hux repeats, nose scrunching up in distaste.

At the word or the implications.

Oh no.

What if Hux is a no homo sort of dude?

Kylo would never forgive himself if he’s crushing on one of those guys.

“Gaydar,” Kylo repeats, more as a confirmation than anything else.

“She shouldn’t be flirting on the job,” Hux finally manages, yet again caring for regulations more than anything else. He loves regulation, practically breathes it, like some military man.

Hux, tall but terribly thin, with short and neat pink hair and an equally pink sweater just seems to… soft for military life.

“You’re staring,” Hux admonishes. He smooths down his sweater, worrying about nonexistent wrinkles. He rubs at his face, looking for some crumb or stain. He sighs, giving up, always finding Kylo to be so unpredictable. “What are you staring at?”

“You,” Kylo blurts out. His face heats. “Um, like, your hair color is staying in all right?”

Hux looks at him curiously. “Yes,” he says, giving him an odd stare. “Do you have a fever, Ren?” He presses close, pressing the back of his hand to Kylo’s forehead, feeling for his temperature. Hux presses his lips together, a thin line. “No. But are you ill?”

“I’m fine,” Kylo says, smacking Hux’s hands away. “Wanna hang out later? My dorm?”

Hux rolls his eyes, making ‘hanging out at a friend’s place’ seem more like a Herculean effort.

“Are you going to make me play that idiotic game again?” he asks.

“Hey,” Kylo protests. “You’re really good at it. Like ridiculously good. And you claim to never play video games.” He scoffs.

“Maybe it’s because i do not… what the word? Rage quit, is it?” Hux says, looking so clearly annoyed, but secretly fond of it. “Fine,” Hux says, very complacently. “But if you get me sick, I won’t forgive you.”

Kylo laughs. “If you get sick, I’ll take your shift or something.”

*

He swears it’s not his fault: that he wasn’t sick and that he hadn’t come into contact with someone sick.

And still, Hux manages to catch one hell of a cold in the middle of summer.

Hux:

_come over. I’m out of tissues._

Kylo rolls his eyes, getting up off of his bed, leaving his scattered papers in need of revision all around his bed. It had been Hux’s idea to take summer courses. (“Not like you want to spend more time with your family, right?” Hux had said, clearly unimpressed with Kylo’s grumbling.)

He snatches up his own tissue box, not willing to go out and buy another.

“I’m leaving,” he calls out, knocking on the two person bedroom that shares a wall and living space with him.

Poe and Finn, some of the most ridiculously lovey-dovy guys Kylo had the misfortune to meet, don’t even say goodbye, maybe too busy having yet another heart to heart conversation. It’s always dreadful. He fights the urge to roll his eyes.

Hux’s dorm is in a different apartment building, just off-campus, in the more expensive and better furnished single person rooms.

Kylo lets himself into the lobby, walking easily enough to Hux’s room and knocks.

He waits out there for a little bit, but cannot be disappointed when the door swings back to reveal Hux.

Hux.

In a set of pajamas too big for him and a matching robe.

Hux who has deep, dark circles underneath his eyes.

He sniffs once and reaches out, taking a tissue straight from the box. “Good,” Hux says, voice low and raspy. “You’re here.” He steps aside, letting Kylo into the normally immaculate dorm.

The living room couch is covered with blankets, almost forming a cocoon like spot in the center. The coffee table is a mess too, of papers and of textbooks, pens and highlighters scattered about.

“Were you… sleeping on the couch?” Kylo asks. “And doing homework.” He prods at the mess.

Hux sniffles again, shuffling over to the couch and having a seat. Then, he goes rigid and stands, shuffling back, towards his miniature kitchen.

“Sorry for my rudeness,” he says, not quite sounding so. “Can I get you something to drink? Water… tea? Or–” Hux grimaces, “–coffee?”

“I’m good,” Kylo says. “Now get to bed. You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Hux says, slow, sarcastic, and sardonic. “It’s like looking at you during early shifts, isn’t it?”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny,” Kylo says, rolling his eyes. And he thought Hux was cute. He’s just an asshole.

An asshole who apparently has a shitty immune system.

“Go sit down,” Kylo instructs. “Get some rest for once, will you?”

Hux rolls his eyes, but complies, a sign that he is truly, really, awfully sick.

What’s good for sick people? Kylo thinks with a huff.

Soup.

He opens Hux’s fridge, finding a package of baby carrots and a few apples.

He closes the fridge, moves on.

The cabinets are dreadfully low on supplies, boasting instant ramen of all things!

(Yes, they’re college students.

But they don’t have to eat like college students.)

“You know, man,” Kylo begins, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. “Your kitchen sucks.”

“Just because I don’t pig out on junk food all the–”

“Hux.” Kylo stops him right there, turning and walking right out of the kitchen. “You’re living on ramen noodles.”

Hux scowls on him, rolling his eyes, and lies back in bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he sighs. “Listen Ren,” he says. “Not all of us have the luxury of going back to a home and eating meals cooked by one’s mother.”

Kylo narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his check and sighs, leaning behind him, against the wall.

“Hux, you’re just lashing out and making presumptions here,” Kylo says. “And I’ll tell you something, if you miss your mom, you don’t need to hide it. You could like call her up or visit instead of staying for summer classes. Nobody’s making you do this.”

Hux laughs at that and falls silent.

Almost too quietly, he says, “Ren. My mother has been dead for years.”

“Oh.” Kylo manages, uncrossing his arms and moving away from the wall. He sits on the couch, nearly crushing Hux in the process. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Hux looks at him oddly again. “Not your fault,” he says, stressing the words, his English accent shining through more clearly.

“Do you have anyone else in your family?” Kylo presses. “Like, a dad or a sister or a brother?”

Kylo might find his mom and his dad unbearably annoying. And uncle Luke, when he was around, could be migraine inducing. But he had Rey, his little cousin–when he didn’t take to annoy her.

Hux covers his eyes with his arm, shielding them from light seeping in through curtains. “That’s enough of this ridiculous talk,” Hux says again.

“Fine,” Kylo says. “But… we’re friends. You can talk to me anytime.”

“Okay,” Hux says. "I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

_July 2018_

Ren:

_Hey Hux._

Hux:

_What is it?_

Ren:

_Dunno. was just thinking._

Hux:

_That’s always dangerous, isn’t it?_

Ren:

_Don’t be a jerk >:-(_

Ren:

_how’d ur finals go for the summer semester anyway_

Hux:

_As one would expect._

Hux:

_They went well._

Hux:

_And yours?_

Ren:

_probs not as well as yours_

Hux:

_That’s a given._

Ren:

_There you go again._

Ren:

_wanna go visit my parent’s vacation house for the weekend_

A few minutes pass by with no word from Hux. Kylo sighs.

Ren:

_u can say no_

Ren:

_i wouldn’t b offended_

Ren:

_just like, it’s gonna b boring there_

Ren:

_and they said that i could bring a guest_

Ren:

_if i want_

Ren:

_shit. it’s late._

Ren:

_Good night._

Later still, Hux replies, only when Kylo has already gone to sleep.

Hux:

_Okay. Sounds like fun… How would we get there?_

*

Taking days off from Starkiller Coffee is surprisingly easy.

Too easy.

“Did you do something?” Kylo asks. “Like, Snoke was pretty nice?”

Hux rolls his eyes. “I would ask you the same, Ren,” he says, words cool and calm. “You’ve managed to become his favorite.”

Kylo scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Hux.”

“You accusing me of being ridiculous?” Hux teases, face softening just this one instant. “How fall I must have fallen?”

“Hey!” Kylo says. “You’re being an ass again.”

“Well, come now,” Hux says instead, smiling easily—more easily than Kylo had ever seen. He sighs too, something tired, something wan, but so very warm. “Let’s go to that beach house of yours, now shall we?”

 

_August 2018_

The bell chimes.

“Hello. Welcome to Starkiller Coffee,” Kylo says, hardly looking up from his task, wiping down another table.

Heavy footsteps ignore him and continue onwards, towards the cash register.

“Boy.” The voice is deep and raspy, as if from years of smoking cigarettes. Kylo ducks his head up, eyes wide, staring.

The man is taller than him, taller than Hux. Broad in the shoulders, belly rounded. From the side, his profile looks severe: hair cropped to a military style, clean shaven, back perfectly straight, arms resting behind him.

And his hair.

Ginger.

“S-sir,” Hux says, eyes widening, mouth dropping open. He fixes his expression, becoming guarded, wary. “H-how may I help you?”

Never had Kylo heard Hux sound so… afraid, so cornered, so much like a _child_.

“One coffee. Black. No sugar, no cream. You know how I like it,” says his father, icy. He had not relaxed at all despite the calming atmosphere the coffee place exuded.

Hux hurried, apron flapping with how quickly he turns. Even from the distance, Kylo can see his hands shake.

He moves closer, closer.

Something is terribly wrong.

Hux burns himself but bites back a whimper, steeling himself.

He prepares the world’s fastest cup of coffee, not even bothering to write his father’s name on the cup. Hux slides it over the countertop.

His father is quick to snatch it up. “A paper cup?” he snorts. “It isn’t like I expected class from this establishment, but from you? What a disgrace to my family name…”

Kylo grinds his teeth, wiping more furiously than needed.

Hux had better have a good comeback for that—he always did.

“Sorry sir,” Hux says instead, demure and submissive and everything _Hux_ is _not._

“Sorry, sir,” his father repeats mockingly. “And your hair? How is that appropriate for a Hux man? You are one of those fags, aren’t you? But you don’t get to look like one, nor act like one. Get yourself together, boy, or I will truly cut you off.”

Just as easily as he came, he leaves—but the aura of distress and of old, childish fear remains.

“Hey Hux,” Kylo says, leaning against the countertop. They’re the only two people in the coffee shop, much too early and much too hot for many visitors. “Let’s go to the backroom.”

Hux stands, numb and dry-eyed, leaning against his station. He doesn’t even nurse the minor burn at his hand, just stares at his shoes.

“Ren,” he says. “I… Let’s not hang out after work today.”

His words stumble off his tongue without any thought.

“What?” Kylo says, blinking. “Why? Didn’t you want–”

Hux shakes his head—his very pink hair all too visible. His fingers dig at his own side, pulling an overlong thread from his equally pink sweater.

“Can you… can you call Phasma?” he asks, never looking up, not wanting Kylo to see him for how he is.

Hux must think himself weak, red-eyed and sad.

But his father is an asshole. Maybe even a bigger asshole than Hux himself. Okay. Scratch out that maybe. Hux’s father, Senior Hux or whatever, is the literal biggest douche out there.

Kylo says as much, hoping for maybe a smile or even a half-hearted chuckle from Hux.

“But he is my father,” is all Kylo receives instead.

Numbly, Hux turns his back, wandering into the backroom, slowly untying his apron and tossing it onto a hook.

Kylo can’t stand how sad it looks.

He rushes to the front, flipping the 'open’ sign to read 'closed’ instead and rushes after Hux, even leaving his coffee stained apron on.

“Hux,” he calls out, looking everywhere.

The sofa is unoccupied—and so are the chairs. The television is off. Has been off for a while. Kylo approaches the bathroom and knocks.

“Go away,” Hux says, muffled through the door. Maybe—it could quite honestly be Kylo’s imagination—Hux sniffles. (But then again, it doesn’t sound very Hux-like. But Hux hadn’t sounded Hux-like either when his dad was berating him.)

“No way man,” Kylo says. “We’re friends. So come out from there. Or I’ll kick down the door.”

Hux snorts—definitely sounding moist and sad. “You wouldn’t,” he says. “Not after your incidents with the coffee equipment.”

“Take it this way,” Kylo says instead. “I wasn’t afraid to break some cups or chairs. What’s a door to me then?”

It opens– as if that’s all Kylo had to say.

Hux’s eyes are red and puffy. The hair atop his head lies free from the gel, twisted out from a normal orderly fashion into something wild, as if he’d twined his own fingers through his hair and tugged, as some odd sort of punishment.

Kylo opens his arms and Hux accepts it, walking into the hug, and letting himself be held.

It’s strange, Kylo thinks, the way he can hear Hux’s heart beat, much too loud and much too close.

His big, rough hand feels too strong, too destructive against Hux’s slim lines.

And yet… he’s the only one there that Hux would allow comfort from.

“Your dad’s a douche,” he says again.

Hux laughs, something sad, leaning his head against Kylo’s shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”

“I think this situation calls for ice cream,” Kylo says. “You down for ice cream?”

Hux might snort at that, but Kylo too feels the smile against his skin.

 

_September ****2018_

“Back to real classes,” Kylo complains.

“I’m still helping you,” Hux says, rolling his eyes. “And keep it down. We are in a library.”

Kylo pouts, leaning his chin on his fist. “Yeah, you’re helping me between doing work on your double degree and minor. That’s not a lot of Kylo-time there.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Insufferable,” he mutters underneath his breath. Kylo likes to think he says so with some fondness.

“You love me, admit it,” Kylo teases.

Hux says nothing, hunkering down and refocusing on some boring old class reading.

“You don’t have to do those,” Kylo says.

“It’s in the syllabus. The readings are essentially homework,” Hux says, defending his borderline obsessive work ethic. His eyes skip a line and continue, skimming through.

Kylo sighs. “How’d I send up with such a nerd?” he mutters to himself.

“Would you rather a jock?” Hux says, wry, one brow rising. “I’m sure your grades would surely improve then,” he says, sarcasm giving a certain lilt to his words.

“I dunno, maybe,” Kylo says. “Should I search for one? Hmm, do you think Phasma would tutor me?”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Between her soccer practice and her picking up girls at the local bar, one would assume she has little time or interest in you.”

“Sayin’ I’m not her type?”

Hux’s eyes bore into him, bored and tired. “No,” he says. “Unless, you’ve secretly been wishing to be called by a different name and another set of pronouns… and even then, I don’t think she’d date someone her height.”

Kylo rolls his eyes. “Well, you call me Ren. That’s the only name change I’ve ever needed is for you to actually use my first name…” He grins, though, slow and silly. “But is that it? Would I be Phasma’s type then?”

Hux barks back a huff of laughter. “Well, you’re both ridiculously fit, with all your visits to the campus gym, and I suppose you have your own sort of charm.” His face heats as he says it, something ridiculous.

“Oh, Huxy,” Kylo teases, his own face heating in response. “Do you think I’m hot?”

“Insufferable,” Hux mutters, shaking his head quickly before walking faster, as if trying to lose Kylo.

It’s a lost cause – Kylo is taller than Hux and his longer legs ensure Hux will never lose him.  


_October 2018_

“So,” Phasma says, bored. She rests her cheek against her fist, leaning her elbow against the counter. Her other hand is free – bright, red nails tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “What are you getting your boyfriend for the holidays?”

Kylo pauses what he’s doing.

It’s late in their shifts – Hux had taken the day off and, as if in response, they had a fairly quiet day. Kylo is cleaning the machines while Phasma just stands there, a shit eating grin growing on her face.

“Boyfriend?” Kylo says haltingly. “I… don’t have one?” It comes out more like a question than a statement. He looks at her oddly… what the hell is Phasma thinking?

“Hux,” she clarifies, popping her gum and chewing—all much too loudly. “What are you getting Hux?”

“We’re not dating,” he says.

She raises a brow. “Sure,” Phasma says, entirely unconvinced.

“We’re not,” he insists.

“Well. Alright.”

She doesn’t believe him.  
  
Damn it all.

Just because he might sorta kinda maybe think Hux is on that side of _cute_ doesn’t mean a thing.

*

Yeah, no.

He definitely does not have a crush on Hux.

No way.

Not at all.

They see a movie together (some dumb documentary Hux had been waiting for for a while. Kylo can’t remember the name).

Hux buys them popcorn. “My treat,” he says, stiff-faced but eyes warm.

Kylo reaches for some popcorn in the darkness of the theater.

Hux’s fingers graze his own.

He doesn’t move away fast enough.

 

_November 2018_

He doesn’t know what to get Hux for the holidays and it’s quickly becoming a problem.

He had a crush.

He didn’t know what to do with the crush.

But some shitty bobble-head keychain wouldn’t do—Kylo didn’t even think they made ones Hux would like.

It’s the end of the month, just a day after Thanksgiving that Kylo helps Hux get decorations from a closet. They’re kept in one box, a light layer of dust on the cover. Kylo wipes it away.

Hux scowls at that, coughing.

Lights, hanging snowflakes, mistletoes, and more are all organized within the cardboard box.

“Well,” Hux says, pinching the plastic of the mistletoe branch and holding it up, a distasteful look upon his face, cheeks red and bright. “I suppose we should begin…”

 

_December 2018_

He gets Hux some books—of course he’d probably enjoy them… probably… (He doesn’t read much fiction…)

He wraps them up, creasing and uncreasing and struggling with an abundance of tape. It looks messy. Kylo snarls at it, annoyed so terribly.

Hux will get him something nice and awfully expensive—because Hux is some rich asshole with an awful family, probably—and the wrapping paper will be perfectly folded with minimal tape.

He huffs a breath, pulls his hair back, away from his face, and stands.

A short shift on Christmas day before a holiday party back at the dorms.

It… doesn’t sound too bad.

*

Hux looks at the awfully packaged gift and slips it into his cross-body bag. “Here,” he says, lips pressed thinly together as he holds out a gift to Kylo, a card too trapped underneath a layer of bows and ribbon.

It’s just as immaculately wrapped as Kylo has expected.

“Thanks,” he says, putting the gift away.

But Hux stands there still, too still, one hand pulled into a tight fist.

“What’s up?” Kylo asks, furrowing his brows.

“I’d like to give you something else too,” Hux says, face flushed horribly, like he’s sick again. Kylo sure hopes not.

“Um… okay?”

“Close your eyes,” Hux instructs.

Kylo does so.

Hux is quiet for a moment. Kylo doesn’t even hear him open his bag.

And then–

Hux’s lips press against his own, soft and slightly damp.

Kylo pulls away, opening his eyes.

Hux’s face is unreadable. He turns around and walks off without another word.

“Hey,” Kylo says, “Wait!”

But Hux doesn’t wait.

“I apologize,” he throws over his shoulder.

Hux doesn’t stay for his shift.

 

January 2019

He doesn’t see Hux for a while.

Hux doesn’t pick up his phone or answer Kylo’s texts.

He sighs, frustrated, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Ben, stop looking at your phone,” Han admonishes, shaking his head. “Kids these days. Don’t appreciate a meal.”

The meal in question had been picked up prepackaged and already cooked from the local deli.

Chewie—their overgrown family dog—barks, pawing at Han’s legs.

“Don’t give him anything,” Leia says.

“Why not?” Han says, already cutting a piece of turkey and tossing it to Chewie. “Only one who appreciates what I bring home.” He ruffles his hand through Chewie’s fur, dog loving the attention.

Hux doesn’t answer back, not even when Kylo checks at night.

*

“Hey Ren,” Phasma says one day, leaning over the edge of the counter, looking terribly bored. She’s taken over Hux’s shift on Mondays and Wednesdays and Kylo hasn’t seen Hux since that day in December. “Did you and your boyfriend get in a fight?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

She stands up straight. “No?” She doesn’t quite believe it, quirking a brow. “Well, what’s made him quit the job?”

“He’s quit?” Kylo’s blood runs cold.

“Um, yeah,” Phasma says. “Surprised he didn’t tell you… You could talk to Snoke–”

“I gotta go,” he says.

“It’s still your shift–”

“I gotta go!”  
  
Kylo tears off his apron, throws it over some chair. He runs out of the coffee shop—not even bothering to put on his winter jacket.

He knows the way to Hux’s dorm building. He should have gone earlier, should have done something sooner.

Leave it to one Kylo Ren to screw everything up, he thinks to himself, snorting.

He knows the floor, knows the room—and people have grown accustomed to his presence.

He knocks on Hux’s dorm, rather rough.

“Hey, Hux,” Kylo calls, voice ragged, his lungs heaving for breath. “I know you’re in there… We need to talk.”

And nothing.

But silence.

“Hux?”

The door unlocks and slides open.

Hux… has looked better. His hair is limp and lifeless, already back to proper ginger. His eyes just look tired. He meets Kylo’s gaze stubbornly, lips locked in a snarl. “What is it?” Hux asks, voice like acid.

“Listen,” he says, reaching out.

Hux flinches back.

Kylo drops his hand, sheepish. “C-can I come in?” he asks.

Hux sighs, like it’s some sort of burden on him. “Alright,” he says, drawing the door back.

Kylo sits himself on the sofa, sinking into it.

Hux sits himself in a chair, bringing his knees nearly to his chest—an utterly un-Hux-like position. Kylo could almost laugh. Or cry. Whatever would come first.

“What is it that you wanted to–?”

Kylo cuts him off. “I like you,” he says, quickly and stubbornly, face heating up. “I just… didn’t think you’d like me too… in that sort of way…”

Hux’s face is priceless, shock widening his eyes and lifting his brow. Even his lips part, just slightly. It’s… charming in its own sort of way. “What–?”

“You kissed me,” Kylo says, reckless and daring and growing more confident in himself. “I meant to kiss you back! It was just so sudden… and then you pulled away and decides to be a coward–”

Hux flushes, that cute look on his face staying stubbornly there. “I am not a coward!” he hisses, leaning closer, sneer growing.

“Prove it,” Kylo dares him, eyes wild with passion in the moment. “Kiss me.”

It takes him a moment—and a series on shocked blinks—to re-obtain his normal cool. And then he snorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Hux says.

“You’re a coward,” Kylo says. “A chicken.” He makes some rather convincing chicken-noises to go along with his taunts.

And that’s all it really takes to goad Hux into giving him a spiteful kiss, practically flying onto the couch where Kylo sits. Hux hurts his own mouth in his haste, pressing a kiss to Kylo’s lips and stepping away.

Kylo pulls Hux back, wrapping an arm around his waist, not even flinching at the gangly man falls onto his mouth.

“That’s not a proper kiss,” Kylo admonishes, pressing a soft one to the corner of Hux’s mouth.

Hux snort-laughs, but his eyes are warm, filled with some sort of light.

“I have a crush on you too, you idiot,” Kylo says. “Don’t run away again…” Hux can’t. Not when Kylo feels it too.

 

February 2019

“So,” Phasma says, cleaning up the cafe, wiping down the tables until they gleamed. “What are you getting your boyfriend for Valentine’s day?”

“We haven’t really made it official yet?”

“No?” Phasma asks, shaking her head. “Hm, wonder how long that’ll take…”

“Dunno,” Kylo says. “Hope he’ll actually tell me his first name by then.”


End file.
